


Lucky Luc

by TuppingLiberty



Series: Tlib's Superstition Hockey Fanfics [7]
Category: Superstition Hockey
Genre: Cunnilingus, Discussion of Chauvinism, Luc's Gender Thoughts, M/M, Non-Binary Luc, Rimming, The DJ Khaled thing, mentioned anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 21:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: Cinnamon has changed the name of the chat to LUC NO.Luc: aw c’monLuc: :sunglasses emoji:Luc: :tongue emoji:Luc: :cat emoji:Crash: snerkJacks: I want a divorce-------Or, Luc wants to chime in on the whole DJ Khaled debate (or, at least, a flare up of the debate in his own future time), but Cinnamon tells him no. This somehow devolves into sex with Jacks, because of course it does.





	Lucky Luc

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Superstition_hockey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superstition_hockey/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bruh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10947816) by [dangercupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangercupcake/pseuds/dangercupcake). 



> So dangercupcake wrote this wonderful piece about Luc being non-binary, and this is heavily influenced by that (as my headcanon of Luc is, as well). Luc's using he/him pronouns in this fic, but he's non-binary. 
> 
> And of course, I owe my biggest inspiration to Superstition_Hockey, and their tumblr post answering Anon about how Luc would react to the DJ Khaled thing, and also to the Nanowrimo OMGCP server for chatting about the answer.

_ Cinnamon has changed the name of the chat to  _ **LUC NO.**

**Luc:** aw c’mon

**Luc:** :sunglasses emoji:

**Luc:** :tongue emoji:

**Luc:** :cat emoji:

**Crash:** _snerk_

**Jacks:** I want a divorce

**Luc:** U can’t just threaten that every time, Jacks

_ Crash has sent an image. [Image of Crash sticking her tongue out between the V of her fingers] _

**Cinnamon:** Crash, if you want to stay in this chat you have to promise you’ll be a voice of reason. THIS CHAT EXISTS FOR A REASON!

_ Luc has sent an image. [Image of Luc sticking his tongue out between the V of his fingers] _

**Sveta:** I would like to be excluded from this narrative.

 

With absolutely no warning - okay, so maybe Luc had been too wrapped up in the raging twitter debate to notice him sneaking up - Luc is covered by two hundreds pounds of male, form of: his husband, sweat level: high. “You think this will distract me, but I’m grosser than you are,” Luc says, poking at Jacks’ side. 

“Ew, then why are you on the bed? Why aren’t you in the shower?” Jacks curls his lip at Luc’s own smell, fresh from a morning run in the summer heat and cool down yoga routine in the backyard. Luc shrugs; he knows he smells like sweat and chicken coop and earth - not unlike how Yasha gets when he’s been in the garden for hours, come to think of it. “We’re going to have to change the sheets.” 

“I got distracted.” 

“I could tell. I was in the middle of making protein pancakes for the week when Cinnamon called me and told me to wrangle my husband.” 

“Well that’s sexist. Why would she assume you could wrangle me?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Jacks replies, deadpan. “Leave the fucking Twitter argument and go take a shower, Luc.” 

“There are people being  _ wrong, _ though.”

“Yeah, they’re wrong every fucking day, you don’t have to be the one to correct them.” He nuzzles at Luc’s throat, probably doing his best to try and distract him. 

Luc frowns, and grunts, not pushing him away. When he doesn’t say anything else, Jacks leans his chin on Luc’s chest, looking up into his eyes. “You know if you made the whole emoji joke on twitter, a good portion of the population would think you’re just as much an asshole as that guy, right?” 

Luc grunts again, running his fingers through Jacks’ sweaty hair. “It’s just that every couple of years, someone brings up that old DJ Khaled argument again and it’s fucking stupid, Jacks!” 

“Tell _me_ what you’d say, then.” 

“It’s chauvinist bullshit. You don’t want to go down because you don’t like the taste or the feeling or whatever? Okay, whatever, no one should push you into a sex act you don’t want to do. But you don’t like it because you’re the  _ male,  _ the  _ king?! _ Fuck  _ that  _ sideways.” 

Jacks just smooths his hand down Luc’s side, a soothing gesture. 

“Like what, we were how old when he said that? And  _ we _ knew it was a bunch of chauvinist bullshit, ‘I take care of my woman so she owes me blowjobs’ scary coercive assault-overtones  _ bullshit, _ back then. In the dark ages.” 

Jacks kisses his chin. “You’ll still look like you’re a bragging asshole.” 

Luc curses under his breath. 

“I mean, any one of your partners, including Cinnamon, would be happy to back up the fact that you are an extremely caring partner - and by that I mean you have the world’s best tongue, and you’re fucking enthusiastic, like, religiously enthusiastic about going down.” Jacks nuzzles his cheek against Luc’s and taps his fingers on his chest. All designed little distractions, Luc is sure, but dammit, they’re working. “But we don’t  _ need _ to tell you that, because you know it, and you don’t need to the world to know it.” 

“Tabernak - I hate when you’re right.” 

“No, you don’t. When I’m right, we score goals,” Jacks says with a broad grin. “And we all know how much you  _ love _ winning.” His fingers slip lower, tracing over Luc’s slowly hardening dick, trapped in his workout gear.

“Did Cinnamon tell you to come seduce me?”

“Nah, just distract you. Probably with hockey, or something.”

“Hockey? How pedestrian,” Luc responds dryly, giving himself away with a grin. He wraps his legs around Jack’s waist, then flips their positions, pushing Jacks onto his back and immediately burying his head in Jacks’ neck, sucking up a bruise. 

The summer heat is sticking to both of them, but Luc doesn’t care. He’s consumed by Jacks, by his feel and smell, the solid body beneath him. “I don’t want to be a king, Jacks,” he mutters, the deeper part of the whole Twitter argument that had been bothering him finally revealed. 

Jacks, bless him, just runs his fingers through Luc’s hair. “You don’t have to be, sweetie.” 

“It’s fucking stupid, like gender has anything to do with roles in marriage.” 

“I know.” Jacks squeezes him in a hug, and Luc squeezes back, settling into it. "You know, captain is gender neutral."   


"Yeah, it is, huh?" Luc says, even though he's thought of it before. "In our vows and everything." 

"I love you." 

Luc meets Jacks' eyes, then smiles. "I love you, too. I want to eat you out.” 

Jacks laughs, surprised at the sudden turn. Luc smiles. He’s glad he can still make Jacks do that, be surprised by his non-sequiturs. “Be my guest. Let me just shower-”

“No, like this.” Luc’s fingers slip under the stretchy waistband of Jacks’ workout gear. “If you want. I want.” 

Jacks makes a gesture, a ‘go for it gesture,’ and Luc smiles, lets himself feel victorious. He brushes his lips over Jacks’ once, then slips down. “Get comfortable,” he says, voice low. 

He slides Jacks’ shorts off and tosses them to the floor, letting Jacks decide if he wants his tank top off or not. He doesn’t care so much about the upper half right now, not when he’s kneeling between Jacks’ legs, pressing his thighs out and down to spread Jacks open as much as possible. “Hand me a pillow, Oli,” he murmurs. 

He looks up to catch it, seeing the look of hot anticipation on Jacks’ face. He grins as Jacks lifts his ass up, god, that perfect hockey ass clenching to lift, just like that, arching Jacks’ back and making a gorgeous bridge of his lower body. Luc pushes the pillow under there, making a note that this will also need a new cover before they go to sleep tonight, and leans in. 

So maybe every girl knew Lucky Luc was good for three orgasms. So maybe he won that contest back in that Toronto hotel room. So maybe he’s always been really fucking good at this. But it’s not like he got really fucking good at it because he didn’t  _ enjoy _ it. It’s like hockey. He enjoys it, _and_ he’s really good at it, and they’re so intertwined at this point that it doesn’t really matter to try and separate the two ideas. 

Jacks is musky, salt on his skin that Luc laps up. He knows Jacks showered this morning, can taste that cleanness faintly, but he wishes he could taste the cum he’d left inside Jacks last night instead. Maybe later, if he can convince Jacks to hang out in bed with him and not go back to cooking pancakes. Although they do need the pancakes. But hell, it’s summer. What’s summer for, if not fucking?

He’s slow, methodical by habit, but not by concentration. In all honesty, he doesn’t need to concentrate on the mechanics anymore, the same way his body knows how to accept a pass and maneuver it into a goal, his body knows how to press kisses over Jacks’ perineum and lick tentatively at his rim. It knows how to open Jacks up slowly, changing the size and shape of his tongue to keep Jacks guessing. 

It knows how to do all of this, so Luc’s brain can just float, along for the ride, _happy to be here, folks, thanks for the invite._ Luc can just let himself drink in the grunts and sighs from above, the praise, let himself smell and feel the precum that’s slipping down Jacks’ cock. 

“Touch yourself,” he says, kissing Jacks’ thigh, and groaning at the sight of Jacks’ big hand wrapping around his cock. “Perfect.” 

He returns to Jacks’ hole, fucking his tongue in and out as Jacks...jacks off. Thinking of the pun makes him smile against Jacks’ rim, and go harder. It’s a extremely short amount of time after that that Jacks shoots all over his stomach, tensing, then relaxing in a way that fills Luc with satisfaction. 

He pillows his chin on Jacks’ leg and looks up at his husband. “Think you can go three?”

Jacks’ eyes fly open and meet his. “What?! No- what? I mean.” He keeps looking at Luc, then lets his legs fall open again. “Yes.” 

“Clear yes?”

“Yes.” Jacks gives him a grin. 

“Toss me the lube?”

It takes Jacks a mere second to fumble for it on the nightstand and toss in on the bed near Luc. 

He goes even slower, this time, if that’s possible, teasing over Jacks’ sensitive prostate. His jaw kind of aches but he’s in that type of headspace where it’s all fucking good, it doesn’t matter, the pain. It’s the third quarter and he’s still got a million minutes to play and there’s no way he’s being benched now. Elite Athlete, motherfucker. 

His tongue is intimately familiar with the little red curls that cover Jacks’ hole. He’s gone down on all sorts of people, all sorts of hair types, and honestly, he loves it always, but there’s something about those copper curls that satisfy him, deep in his gut. This is _his_ redhead - _god, remember that time Jacks bleached his hair? Travesty._ \- and his body knows it. 

Luc massages over Jacks’ thigh, pushing him open even further, stretching him like Jacks might do himself pre-game. He’s beautiful like this, his tank rucked up over his abs - Luc’s fairly sure Jacks used it to wipe up some of the cum, because it’s stained, now - his skin sweat-sheened, his eyes closed. His cock is straining again, and Luc’s own dick is getting harder to ignore, the wet patch on the front of his shorts huge now. He’s been rutting against the bed without really knowing it. 

Like that, just like that, lost in Jacks’ ass, he gets Jacks to come again. Jacks whines, and Luc backs off, kissing up his perineum again, then licking at the small pool of cum on Jacks’ abs. Jacks whimpers again when Luc licks his cockhead clean. He slowly makes his way up Jacks’ body, grabbing a fistful of Jacks’ tank and pulling him up for a kiss. They share Jacks’ taste between them, making out, Luc rutting against Jacks’ body now. 

Jacks’ legs are still sweetly open for him, and he pulls back, hand on Jacks’ hip. “One more?”

“Fuckin’ crazy.” But he grins, pulling Luc back down for a kiss. “Kiss me for five, and we’ll see where we’re at.” 

It’s a lazy make out, mixed with small, whispered conversation. 

“You’ve still got that Lucky Luc charm.” 

“Were you the only guy who knew that the Lucky Luc charm was just my tongue?”

Jacks snorts. “Probably. Roommates, after all.” 

Luc turns pink. “Sorry,” he has the grace to say, now that they’re a billion years older and married and happy and going to be together forever. 

“Eh.” He slides an arm behind Luc’s back and pulls Luc closer, melting into another kiss. “Put your dick in me.” 

“I thought I was the aro one here.” 

“Put your dick in me, oh love of my life?”

Luc’s still laughing as he slides, lubed, into Jacks’ well-stretched hole. And that’s maybe his favorite thing about sex with his best friend. It’s not serious. It’s- it’s just Jacks, and him, and that’s all Luc needs, really, ever. 

Everything - everyone - else is just the really fucking sweet cherry on top. 

Jacks’ legs circle his waist, his heels digging into Luc’s calves to get leverage, and it takes Luc just about everything he has not to come right then. Jacks with two orgasms under his belt is a dangerous creature, and Luc severely underestimates him - enough that’s he’s flipped to his back again, and Jacks is riding him slowly, just grinding small circles, a look of pain and pleasure on his face. 

Jacks adjusts until he finds the perfect spot, taking his pleasure from Luc’s dick, and Luc just keeps his hands steady on his hips and watches him with what is surely a thunderstruck awe. Jacks  _ must _ be oversensitive, but he’s powering through it, his dick half hard, eyes squeezed shut, breath falling harshly from his lips. 

“Fuck- Oli-” Luc can’t hold back, stilling Jacks’ hips and thrusting up hard, spilling inside Jacks in a delirious orgasm. 

Jacks grinds a few times before sagging on top of him, collapsing onto his chest so Luc can wrap his arms around him. He’s still half-hard, third time isn’t a charm, Luc supposes, but Jacks is grinning and happy and spent in his arms, so he thinks they’re all good. 

 

It’s after their shower, when the family is all strewn about the backyard - Luc is running the grill, Yasha is weeding, Sveta’s painting, and Buddy is corralling - chasing -  cats and dogs and chickens around the yard, that Jacks posts the picture to snapchat. 

It’s just a selfie of him and Luc from last night’s evening backyard hangout, Luc’s snapback on backwards as he kisses Jacks’ cheek. They’re flushed, happy, obviously, but also because they’d just been making out for like twenty minutes before they’d taken the selfie. They’re wearing sunglasses, so no one can see how their pupils are blown, and it’s just a face shot, so no one can see their dicks. So, it’s all good. Their fans will get a kick of out the cuteness of it all. 

He posts the picture with a simple caption: **_#summernights #:stuck out tongue emoji:_ **

 

**Cinnamon:** I saw that Jacks

**Crash:** :fistbump:

**Cinnamon:** I want a divorce

 

Across the back porch, Luc looks up from scrolling his phone to find Jacks, and laughs, blowing him a kiss. 


End file.
